The Body Builder - Sex Stories

The Body Builder

... particular night. “The gallery owner usually has one or two of my pieces on display.”

“Of course! Sheryl had me help her *********** some works for the walls. She wanted to make sure I was okay with anything and that I didn’t feel like they were taking the focus away from my work. I liked that one as it does seem to reflect the curves of my work. I am delighted to meet you!”

Karyn took my arm and guided me over to another of her works. It was a strong grip, but working with large blocks of stone and the associated equipment, it suited her. And for the rest of the evening she guided me around the gallery. I was able to introduce her to many of those in the artists’ circle, along with some of the patrons that kept many of us from starving. She would hand me glasses of wine, or pop some fruit into my mouth on occasion. I alternated between feeling that she was pampering me, to feeling like she was in full control of me.

The only time she left me alone was when she went with Sheryl to complete the paperwork for the sale of one of her pieces. I don’t know what the final price was, but knew that it was enough that it would keep her comfortable for several months. A big plus when trying to get established in a new city. Karyn was definitely in a buoyant mood when she returned to find me.

As the evening started to wind down, we found ourselves back in front of the sculpture where we had met. Pressing up against me with her back, she took my left hand and ran it over ...

... the sculpture, at the same time, she took my right hand and slid it across her side and over her rear end. It was the most sensuous experience I had ever had in public! My cock was certainly at attention and it pressed against her, no doubt about how I felt about things!

She turned around and gave me a quick kiss. “I knew exactly what you were thinking when you first ran your hands over these curves. I’m more than flattered! I expect you to walk me home when things are done here. I’ll show you my studio.”

At this point, I was pretty sure I was going to see more than her studio. As the last of the guests left, I helped Sheryl clean up, collecting the wine glasses and scattered plates from around the gallery and moving them to the back room. There was a small kitchenette there, complete with dishwasher. Sheryl refused to go with the much easier plasticware, not wanting to contribute to the landfills. The three of us locked up the gallery and we made sure Sheryl got in her car. She offered to give us a ride, but Karyn said we’d be fine walking, and that I knew my way around.

We walked the two blocks to the studio she was renting. It was on the third floor of one of the buildings that had been refurbished as artist space. Each of them had a well lit studio space and a small studio apartment attached to it. I was pleased to realize that my own apartment, certainly bigger than this one, was only another two blocks away.

She flipped on the lights as we came in the door, ...